


Promises, Promises

by Arista_Holmes



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arista_Holmes/pseuds/Arista_Holmes
Summary: When the Doctor is sick, all his inhibitions vanish and Rose has to keep herself from misbehaving and shattering the delicate trust between them
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	Promises, Promises

**Promises, Promises**

**by Arista_Holmes**

_ Tags; Sick!Fic, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor, Rose/10th Doctor _

  
  


Rose had to bite her lip to smother a giggle as she stood in the doorway of the library, a tray carrying a fresh pot of tea and a bowl of the Doctor's favourite Trilaxian soup held between her hands, as she watched the Time Lord stretched out on the sofa groaning dramatically in a manner that, despite his current predicament, she found ridiculously adorable.

"Roooose...."

"I'm here, Doctor," she answered quickly, carefully straightening out her expression into one of gentle concern as she approached the sofa, gingerly placing the tray on the coffee table and being careful not to spill anything before sitting herself on the edge of the seat beside the Time Lords skinny hips.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, and her response was a fresh groan.

"I'm not ill!" the Doctor whined, and Rose couldn't stop the slight lift of her eyebrow that conveyed her complete disbelief in his diagnosis.

His cheeks were flushed pink and a light sheen of sweat seemed to cling to him, making his perpetually springy hair droop slightly. Combined with the frequent bouts of sneezing and the glassy eyes the Doctor looked like a poorly puppy; Utterly defenceless, a little pathetic and Rose's heart left her chest and settled between the Time Lords hands as she gazed down at him.

She only realised that she'd been studying him with that look of disbelief fixed on her features, when the very same Time Lord began to pout like a spoiled three year old who'd been told off.

"I'm a Time Lord, Rose!" he complained, pausing to splutter a cough into his hands when the whining strained his throat a little too much, "we don't get colds..." he finished weakly, sniffing pitifully, "and even if we did the Tardis would clear up any bugs on us the moment we stepped back through her doors... ooh! maybe the air cleansing system's damaged... I should-"

"Sit still," Rose said, simultaneously cutting off the oncoming babble that even a sore throat couldn't conquer, and managing to finish the Doctor's sentence all at once. She'd let him run his gob uninterrupted while she poured out a warm tea with honey, but when he tried to sit up and scamper off to fix the Tardis, the firm press of her hand on his shoulder halted his movements and made his eyes go wide as she pushed the mug of tea into his hands to keep him busy.

Her firm command seemed to have startled the Time Lord though and he didn't argue the matter, as Rose had half expected him too, and after a single moment's hesitation his shoulders slumped in defeat and his long fingers curled firmly around the cup.

"I'm not thirsty, Rose," he muttered quietly, but took a sip of the tea anyway, his movements slow and reluctant until the first taste slid past his lips. Eyelids closing heavily over his tired eyes, the Doctor let loose a soft hum of pleasure and Rose forced back the smug grin she could feel fighting to come out.

She knew from experience that the warm slide of honeyed tea on a sore throat was heavenly, and the Doctor didn't even bother trying to save face, lifting the mug to his lips again without complaint and quickly draining the drink, tongue licking across his lips to track down every trace and thoroughly distracting Rose as she watched him, mesmerised.

"Tyler tea," the Doctor murmured softly, "I feel better already" he tried to reassure her, a smile rising to his lips as he spotted the blonde's distraction but before he could tease her a fresh round of sneezing caught them both off guard.

Pushing the now empty teacup at Rose, the Doctor quickly snatched up a tissue from the box of them that Rose had placed on the tea tray before spending the next few minutes sneezing and sniffling into the paper until the persistent ticking in his nose receded once more. Slowly he became aware of Rose's gentle hand rubbing soothingly along his spine, his body curled around her hips as he hung over the edge of the sofa, energy draining quickly as he flung his arm out to drop the used tissues into a bin the Tardis had conveniently placed beside the sofa.

At some point, while the Doctor had been distracted, Rose had put the empty cup back on the tray so she was able to use both hands to gently help the Doctor upright, and to sit back against the arm of the sofa, brushing her cool fingers across his sweat soaked forehead, and pulling a reluctant groan from his sore throat.

"Oh... that's not good..." the Doctor muttered, eyes slowly focussing on the concern painted across Rose's beautiful features.

"What's not?" she asked softly, her voice shook a little and the Doctor offered her a weary smile, and twined their fingers together in an attempt to reassure her but it only spiked his own worry further.

"You feel cold... So unless the Tardis thermostat is also damaged... I'm running a fever," the Doctor explained slowly, wincing when he saw Rose's concern grow exponentially at his reluctant admittance that he might actually not be quite so impervious to illness as he had previously insisted.

He half expected her to scold him for being so stubborn. To tell him off for not taking care of himself, and her jaw tightened for a single moment before the human woman sitting beside him let loose a tired sounding sigh, and turned back to the tea-tray in silence, the angle hiding her expression from his eyes and the Doctor felt his hearts clench in fear at having disappointed her.

"Rose...?"

She pulled her fingers from his and the Doctor thought he might throw up. Could he blame that reaction on the illness currently running through his system? Probably, he admitted to himself, but he knew that wasn't the reason his stomach was rolling and he let his fingers hook around the sleeve of Rose's shirt and tug gently and he called for her again, desperate now to apologise for being a stubborn old Time Lord.

"Rose..."

She responded to his second plaintive whimper quickly, and turned back to him cradling a bowl of soup in her hands but Rose couldn't quite hide the glittering amusement in her eyes and the Doctor's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Rose Tyler, are you laughing at me?" he demanded, or at least tried to but his indignant squawk triggered another round of spluttering coughs that effectively killed the laughter in Rose's soft brown eyes, and when he could focus on anything other than the rough drag of air along his throat, Rose was whispering heartfelt apologies for her amusement.

"I'm sorry Doctor, here you are, really sick, and I'm-"

"It's fine Rose, I... I suppose I've been a bit stubborn," the Doctor offered reluctantly, but willing to admit to being wrong if it stopped the apologies tripping off her tongue.

Rose's frame stilled for a moment before she offered him a sad smile, and stretched a hand out again to brush his damp fringe back from his forehead. Her fingers still felt cool against his flushed skin and the Doctor shivered at the sharp contrast.

"Maybe you'll let me take care of you without arguing with me, now that you've finally admitted you're sick," Rose scolded gently, and the Doctor struggled to open his eyes as her hand withdrew, wondering briefly when they'd fallen closed, only to find Rose holding out the still steaming bowl of soup and he groaned but sat forward a little to accept the meal, unable to find the energy to fight Rose on the matter, and swallowing any token complaints he may have made with the first spoonful of the nutrient laden Trilaxian soup.

There was a shouty little voice in the back of his mind that sounded alarmingly like one of his professors from the Academy. It kept insisting that a Time Lord shouldn't be relying on an inferior species for help, that he should get up and walk away and deal with any possible weaknesses alone. Privately. Protected from potential exploitation.

The larger part of the Doctor, however, found that he wanted to be looked after. The longer he sat on the library sofa, allowing Rose to fuss over him, the more aware he became of a warmth trickling through his system that had very little to do with the fever. Slowly he came to the realisation that, for the first time in far longer than he cared to think about, someone else cared about his well-being enough to fight with him, to beat down his stubbornness until he let them care for him, instead of surrendering to his easy dismissal and leaving him to his own misery.

He always had to be strong, these days. More-so than ever before. While he'd never really had a need to go back to Gallifrey for help, he always knew that it was an option. A worst case scenario. Even for something as mundane as an illness or as anticipated as the end of his regeneration package. If necessary he always knew, in the back of his expansive mind, that he could pull in favours owed or even leverage a few key pieces of blackmail to get what he needed from his own people, but not any more. Now, there was no one but him and for the first time since the end of the war the Doctor found that it felt reassuring to hand over the decision making to someone else.

Not just anyone else, though, he realised as he watched Rose ready another cup of tea while he sipped steadily at the bowl of soup. It felt good to hand over the decisions to Rose. To let Rose take care of him. To accept that Rose cared, and to let her care instead of pushing her away.

His hearts constricted as the realisation slammed into him like a Tardis on a collision course, and he spluttered slightly as he hacked on a cough but with the warm soup soothing his throat he was able to smother the coughing fit before it got a strong hold once more.

Blinking his weary eyes back open he found Rose watching him intently, hands outstretched to catch his bowl of soup, and frame tensed to reach for anything else he might need and the Doctor felt a loopy grin slip over his features at the concern hiding in her golden whisky brown gaze.

"Doctor?" Rose prompted softly, the question at the end of his name clear even in his feverish state and the Time Lord giggled slightly, surprising Rose a little but it eased the concerned frown from her face and that made his grin widen further.

"You care..." he breathed, blinking at her owlishly, and Rose flushed almost instantly.

"What?"

"You actually care about-"

"Of course I do," Rose said quickly, her voice low and the frown was back again making the Doctor pout a little, "you don't have to say it as though you've just figured out a puzzle that's had you stumped for weeks... It can't be that much of a surprise, Doctor..." Rose muttered and she had to grab his almost empty bowl, quickly, when the Time Lord leant toward her to press his clammy forehead to her own. Despite the beads of perspiration, his skin was hot against hers and Rose felt her worry spike higher. It probably wouldn't register as a fever in humans, but that didn't reassure her, and neither did his quick descent into feverish delirium.

"But it is, Rose... A puzzle because... you shouldn't, you know?"

"Sorry?" she whispered, her mind more focused on how she could help the sick Time Lord than the words he was speaking, but the soft expression slowly taking over his features stole her breath and Rose felt herself enraptured by the tenderness radiating out from his chocolate brown eyes.

"You shouldn't care... about me. M'not worth it and you deserve better."

The soup bowl was placed back on the tea-tray blindly, and although Rose knew that this was probably the fever talking, and that her priority should be dealing with said fever, the loneliness hidden behind that simple statement reminded her of blue eyes and leather and it needed to be addressed. Even if he forgot every moment of this conversation once the fever broke, she hoped that his giant Time Lord brain would save it somewhere in the back of his mind as she let her hands cup his sweat soaked face so that their eyes stayed locked.

"Why don't you let me worry about who I care about? What I deserve, Doctor, is to be allowed to make my own choices about what I want to do with my life, and about who I care for," she breathed softly, "Perhaps you should focus on getting better, and getting over this fever, instead of trying to decide whether I should care for you or not, when there's really nothing you can do to stop me."

There was a beat of heavy silence as the Doctor blinked at her slowly, but after a moment he huffed out an irritated sounding sigh.

"What fever? Time Lord's don't get sick, Rose," the Doctor drawled slowly, and she found herself rolling her eyes as they moved back round to outright denial once more. Removing her hands from his face Rose took a quick evaluating glance around the library before deciding that the Doctor really needed to be in a proper bed.

"Come on, up you get," Rose prompted, standing and holding her hands out to pull the Doctor to his feet.

"Where are we going?" the Time Lord asked, eyeing her hands distrustfully, and the stab of hurt that shot through Rose's chest made her breath catch for a moment before she could make herself answer.

"On an adventure."

His eyes lit up at her words and a moment later the Doctor had scrambled upright, forcing Rose to wrap an arm around his waist as he stumbled over his own feet and nearly toppled head first into one of the bookshelves. A long arm found its way around her shoulders and the Time Lord began babbling away about a thousand different places he could take them, nebula storms and the birth of stars. Planets made of sapphires and bioluminescent plant life. His voice in her ear, hoarse from his illness, raised goosebumps along her skin and Rose forced herself to ignore the Doctor until they reached the hallway and he tried turning them towards the console room.

"Doctor... do you trust me?" Rose asked, pulling the lanky man to a halt and the Doctor nodded.

"'Course I do, Rose Tyler... With my life... with my Tardis..." he leant towards her again, dipping his head as though he was about to whisper a secret and Rose found herself interrupting him before he could say anything else. Turning her head to face him, their foreheads pressed together again Rose forced herself not to get sidetracked.

"Will you do as I ask without asking questions?" she asked him and something in her tone must have broken through for just a moment as the Time Lord leaning heavily against her lost his dizzy grin and let his eyes flicker over her face before nodding his consent.

"Alright.... we're not going to the console room for this adventure. Follow me, Time Lord," she ordered, keeping her tone light and playful despite her growing concern and no small amount of fear for the alien as she mentally begged the Tardis for a shower, pajamas and a bed for the time-ship's sick pilot.

The Tardis didn't make her wait, and a moment later a door appeared, forming out of the wall as Rose watched and she had to force herself not to stare in amazement. Usually the ship just provided whatever Rose needed behind the next door she tried. Rose had never seen the ship form a door specifically for her and the young human hesitantly turned the handle, pushing the door open and tugging the Doctor through to find what was obviously the Time Lord's bedroom.

A large bed with Tardis blue sheets dominated one wall, and scattered over every other surface in the room, including the writing desk, chairs and several book shelves, were gadgets in various stages of construction. Or possibly deconstruction. There was another door that was already opened and beyond that Rose could see a shower room in soft greens and light blues and she gently guided the now quiet Doctor towards the bathroom across his carpeted floor, and she was going to tease him mercilessly about that as soon as he was feeling more like his usual self.

For now she manoeuvred the two of them into the room, and carefully settled the Doctor down on the closed lit of the toilet. Rose took a moment to make sure he wasn't going to topple over sideways, or try and wander off before she quickly moved away to rummage through the cabinets beside him, scooping out a flannel and running it under some cold water from the sink that looked like it had been formed from black moulded glass.

As she let the quickly cooling water soak the washcloth, Rose's eyes kept darting back to the Doctor as he swayed slightly on the toilet seat, and by the time she stepped back to his side he had one hand pressed to his own forehead and a tired grimace across his face. 

She gently pressed the cool washcloth to the back of the Doctor's neck and he groaned softly as she wiped the sweat away from his skin. Part of her wanted to push him under a cold shower, but the last thing he needed on top of a fever was to catch a chill. Superior biology or not, it seemed to be compromised for the moment so she erred on the side of caution.

"Do you think you can get changed into some pajamas, Doctor?" she asked softly, drawing his glassy gaze back to her once more when the cloth began to grow warm in her hands. It seemed to take a moment for the Doctor to absorb her question and formulate a response but eventually he nodded Rose threw the cloth back into the sink before handing him the set of sleepwear the Tardis had laid out and turning to head into the bedroom to give the Time Lord some privacy but a sharp sound of complaint and his long arms curling around her waist brought her to a sharp standstill.

"Don't leave me," the Doctor whimpered against her ear and Rose shook slightly as her imagination took off at the quiet request, "You promised... Forever..."

The pyjama's were still clenched in his hands and were pressed against her stomach as the Doctor clung to her and there was a tremor in his voice that, if she didn't know better, Rose would have called fear. He trembled slightly and slumped a little against her back as though too tired to stay upright and she forced herself to answer him, turning her head slightly as she tried to catch a glimpse of his expression out of the corner of her eye.

"I did promise forever-"

"So don't leave," the Time Lord whined slightly and Rose grinned a little in spite of herself, but scolded herself and sobered quickly when she recalled that the only reason he was being so uncharacteristically clingy was because he was sick.

Steadying herself with a single deep breath, Rose nodded and turned slowly in his arms until they were face to face. It took a little bit of wiggling on her part as he seemed reluctant to release his hold on her waist, and when she could eventually gaze up at his sweat soaked features his eyes were narrowed suspiciously, as though she was about to make another dash for freedom.

"Alright, Doctor... I won't leave... but you still need to change into those pajamas..." Rose coaxed as her fingers moved to unbutton his jacket and shirt. Part of her expected a squawk of protest at his layers being threatened, but the feverish snuggly Doctor just smiled down at her serenely and shrugged out of the clothes as soon as all the buttons were free.

Rose made a point of keeping her eyes as fixed on the Doctor's face as she could, refusing to invade more of his well guarded privacy than she absolutely had too but it was difficult when the Doctor in front of her seemed to have no personal boundaries to speak of at all.

He finally took a wobbly step back from her just long enough to pull his vest over his head, leaving Rose blinking owlishly at a topless Time Lord who, when noticing her stare grinned so cheerfully that for a moment she wondered if he'd faked the entire fever. Right up until he shivered violently and wrapped his arms around his chest.

"Roooose.... It's cold..." he complained before descending into a fresh bout of coughing, the harsh sound making her wince in sympathy before she quickly shook her head, shaking her more than inappropriate thoughts away for the time being. She could see from his flushed face he wasn't at all cold, and bit her lip in concern as she stepped towards him to tug the Pyjama's out of his hands. 

A few flicks of her fingers had unbuttoned the clean shirt and within moments Rose had the Doctor buttoned up into it and was working on divesting the feverish Time Lord of his trousers. She worked quickly in a futile attempt at ignoring the fact she was undressing the alien that held her heart, but now that he was beginning to shiver violently, she found it easier to push her untimely thoughts away as she helped him step out of the woollen pinstriped trousers and into a soft pair of cotton sleep pants.

"Come on, Doctor... this way," she called gently once he was dressed in the fresh sleepwear and taking his hand gently to guide him towards the large bed covered in Tardis blue sheets. 

"Are we going to bed?" the Doctor asked, and Rose nearly swallowed her tongue before choking out a quiet answer.

"You need to sleep to get rid of this fever, Doctor..."

"Aren't you going to join me?" he asked, even as she pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed and slide beneath the blue covers. His brown eyes staring up at her, glassy with fever, convinced Rose to hold firm though and she shook her head and ignored the growing pout on his lips.

"Tell you what, Doctor, if you stay in bed and go to sleep and focus all that superior biology on getting better... Once you're not feverish anymore, if you still want me to join you I will, alright?" Rose promised, keeping her voice cheerful even though she knew he'd never ask her when he wasn’t sick and delirious. Her offer seemed to appease him though and he sunk back into his pillows with a resigned sigh, curling up onto his side slightly with the thick duvet wrapped around him like a caterpillars cocoon, and one arm stretched out in a silent request to hold his hand.

"Stay?" he pleaded softly, and there was nothing in any universe that could have convinced Rose to leave so she simply nodded and sank to the floor beside his bed, wrapping the fingers of one hand around his own and her head on the mattress. It took literally seconds for the Doctor to drop into a heavy sleep, the depth of it surprising her and there were several long moments where she could have almost sworn he wasn't breathing at all.

He was though, every now and then she saw his chest rise and fall with a deep breath and after a little shifting and a few pillows from the Tardis, Rose found herself falling asleep beside him, her head still on the mattress, and her fingers still entwined with his own.

* * *

The Doctor woke slowly, which was the first unusual sensation and after a quick internal check he realised he was gradually coming round from a healing coma. A second check of his body's functions told him it had been a particularly nasty fever and he groaned softly, knowing Rose would never let him live down the fact that, after all his bragging about a superior biology, he'd been laid out with a fever.

The second unusual sensation was the feeling of fingers laced with his own. It wouldn't have been an unusual sensation if he'd been upright and dressed and in the galley or console room or even standing on an alien planet with Rose Tyler by his side, but laid in bed with pyjamas on it was most definitely an unanticipated feeling.

He slowly cracked his eyes open to see that she'd put him to bed in his own room. The Tardis must have led her there, and the Doctor felt a soft smile creep over his features but it faded quickly at the frown marring Rose's features even in her sleep.

Finally, the Doctor registered exactly how his pink and yellow human had fallen asleep, curled on the floor beside his bed with her fingers entwined with his own and her head pillowed on the mattress beside his hip and his hearts simultaneously broke and melted. The sight also seemed to unlock the feverish memories of the previous day and he tensed as he remembered just how uninhibited he'd become.

The Doctor could easily blame his words and actions on the fever, but he knew that all that had happened was that his filter had been stripped away to leave undiluted honesty in its place but the question now was could he admit that to Rose now that his guards were slowly beginning to slip back into place.

The Rose Tyler who had slept on the floor beside his bed because he'd asked her not to leave. The Rose Tyler who had, when he was sick, steadfastly refused to take advantage of his invitations into his bed. The Rose Tyler who-

His mind ground to a halt for a moment and the Doctor could feel his eyes widen in surprise as he remembered her gentle promise to join him in bed if he still wanted her once the fever broke.

Her request that he focus on getting better was, he admitted to himself, the most likely reason he'd slipped into a healing coma. The fever would have sorted itself out in a few days but he blushed as he realised that in some part of his mind he'd put himself under in an attempt to heal faster in response to the blonde woman's promise.

Now the Doctor had to decide. Did he deny all memory of what had occurred and return to their platonic flirting, or did he admit to remembering. Face Rose's teasing and pull her into the bed beside him as she had promised to allow when he woke up healed.

It took less than a second for the Doctor to weigh up the pro's and con's of each option and remember the way Rose's eyes had lingered when she'd peeled away his sweat soaked suit the night before. With a wicked grin slowly spreading across his features, the Doctor slid down the bed until he could press gentle teasing kisses across her cheekbones, waking her slowly and tugging the sleepy blonde up beside him and into the large double bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Found this on my hard drive. Finished, I just apparently never posted it anywhere *shrug*


End file.
